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We got an eLetter from an online wine dealer the other day touting a Chilean Carmenére that scored 90 points (Wine Advocate) and cost only $14.80. It was a Vina Perez Cruz Carmenére Reserva Limited Edition 2006.
When Tim asked if I could guest blogsit while he and Ruth get settled into their new digs, of course I said sure. In fact, I enjoyed writing my last guest post and I thought it would help me relieve some stress.
Why am I stressed, you ask? Oh, just because I have no job, I'm closing on a house in another state, my house hasn't yet sold, and did I mention that I'm buying a house while on unemployment?
But enough about me . . . seriously. Let's get down to eating well, cheaply.
When Tim, guest blogger Kevin Ireton, and I were a team at our former place of employment, we had a standing meeting on Monday mornings; I thought of it as my therapy session. In fact, these little tête-à-têtes may just have been the highlight of my week.
Although the "conversations" eventually focused on business, often the first item discussed were our great food finds on the previous weekend. Since my wife, Ramin Ganeshram, is a chef and culinary writer, my stories most often revolved around what great dishes she cooked, or what cool ethnic market we visited, or what chef invited us to dinner. I'm spoiled like that.
But since this whole moving thing, we haven't been anywhere notable, as she's cooking the pantry in an effort to avoid packing foodstuffs. I've attempted this myself a few times, but would refer to my endeavors as "massacring the pantry."
For example, yesterday at lunchtime, I found a half-dozen soy nuggets from Trader Joe's deep in the freezer. The best way to eat these, in my opinion, is to heat them in the microwave for a minute so until they get soft, then give them a quick fry in a dash of canola oil.
Which I'm pretty good at, but yesterday my dash of canola oil was actually sesame oil, followed by an expletive. Not one to leave things alone, I thought that my mixup would be corrected by a dash of rice wine vinegar and everything would have that "taste of the Orient."
Wrong.
It seems that rice wine vinegar prevents anything from browning. I ended up with six little sponges that tasted anything but pleasant. (I have a secret weapon for situations like this called "Sweet Baby Ray's" and will write about it in another post.)
So after a long day of packing, followed by a visit to the Goodwill drop-off center, I was starving and needed some real Asian comfort food. In my case, that's Drunken Noodles from the most unassuming Thai restaurant in the most run-down shopping center in my area.
As usual on a Friday night, the place was packed. While waiting for our dishes, we had a Thai salad which seemed little more than cucumbers in a tasty, clear dressing.
I'm sure Ramin could see my brain trying to figure out the flavor profile. She blurted out, "It's just rice wine vinegar and sugar."
I had to chuckle inside, having abused my palate with this same ingredient earlier in the day. Now that it was used correctly, I couldn't get enough.
Here's the salad recipe. It's been vetted by Ramin, so you can useoy it with confidence.
Thai Salad with Rice Wine Vinegar Dressing:
4 Kirby or Persian, or 1 large traditional cucumber, diced
1 T. each, carrots, onions, tomato, julienned (optional)
1/4 cup rice wine vinegar
1/2 t. white sugar (or less, as desired)
Salt and freshly ground pepper
Combine cucumbers and other vegetables in small bowl and set aside.
Wisk together vinegar and sugar, and add salt and pepper to taste.
Pour over vegetable mixture and allow to marinate from half an hour up to 2 hours.
Looks can be deceiving. My "Golden Rule" of judging ethnic restaurants is not by their exteriors or decors, but their cleanliness and clientele. At this nearly abandoned shopping center on Long Island, the Thai restaurant is mobbed every day for lunch and dinner. Next door, the sit-down Chinese-Japanese place is perpetually empty. Coincidence? I think not.
[NOTE: Here's the second installment from guest blogger Kevin Ireton:]
The idea of me writing a blog about cooking is truly laughable, though friends who have been to my house will claim otherwise. “Kevin’s a good cook,” they’ll say. But this much, at least, I have learned about cooking: It is not the same thing as being able to follow a recipe. I can follow a recipe, but I’m a long way from knowing how to cook.
At heart, I am a carpenter. I have worked at the trade, first for money and then for pleasure, for the past 30 years. Give me sufficient tools and materials, ask me to build something—a cabinet, say, or a house—and I will figure out a way. I understand plumb, level, and square. I understand 2x4s and plywood. I know lots of different ways to cut, shape, and assemble them. So it is with cooking.
True cooks understand tools, techniques, and ingredients such that they can take what’s on hand and make something tasty. If I live long enough, I may get to the point where I can do that consistently enough to call myself a cook. But even now, I am occasionally forced by circumstances to take what’s on hand and assemble a meal, however humble, without a recipe. That’s what happened last night.
Like a lot of people, I tend to use food as a reward for myself, and last night I wanted something tasty. But all I had in house was a bunch of damned vegetables (our share of CSA box that we split with Tim and Ruth). What to do? I started with oven-roasted potatoes. They’re not quite as good as French fries, but close, and still a ready vehicle for ketchup.
Preheat the oven to 450.
Roughly cube the potatoes.
Coat with olive oil and salt.
Bake for 40 to 45 minutes, turning once halfway through.
While the potatoes were roasting, I turned my attention to the main dish. The box contained fresh sweet corn, tomatoes, onions, and a banana pepper. I actually tried to find a recipe that included all of these things, but couldn’t, so I forged ahead, figuring “How bad can it be?”
I probably didn’t have to, but I boiled the corn first, and then trimmed it off the cob. After frying the chopped onions and diced pepper in a little olive oil for 10 minutes or so, I threw in the corn and some diced tomatoes just long enough to heat them up.
My Midwestern farmboy of a father would have said, “Where’s the beef?” But I sat down to a reasonably healthy, very satisfying meal that tasted good enough for me to feel rewarded.
I became an unemployment statistic back in April and committed myself to doing nothing for as long as possible. (I’m learning how not to be driven.) Well, almost nothing. I decided it would be good if I could learn to cook Mexican food (and then maybe Indian).
I haven’t gotten very far, but I learned to cook rice and beans, which may come in handy given my lack of income. I bought a copy of Rick Bayless’s book Mexican Everyday. Bayless has a fabulous restaurant in Chicago called Frontera Grill, which I was lucky enough to eat at when I had an expense account. He also has a TV show on PBS called Mexico, One Plate at a Time. But in truth, I bought his book because my friend Chuck, who really can cook, told me to.
Bayless says his favorite beans are the ones that “have bobbed for hours in the slow cooker,” so that’s what I use.
1 lb. beans (white Navy, red or black)
2 T. pork lard, vegetable oil or bacon drippings
1 medium white onion, chopped
Salt
For some reason, you’re supposed to bring the beans to a boil on the stovetop first. I’m not sure why, but I dutifully follow instructions. Then give them six hours on high in the crockpot. Throw salt in at the end.
The rice is even easier.
1 ½ tsp. vegetable or olive oil
1 ½ cups white rice
1 cup bottled salsa
1 cup chicken broth
Salt
1 ½ cups frozen peas
With the oven at 350 degrees, you set a medium (3-quart) ovenproof saucepan over medium heat. Add the oil and rice, stirring frequently for about five minutes. The rice is supposed to turn from translucent to milky white, but Tim (whom I frequently invite over to supervise when I cook) tells me not to worry too much about this stage. Add the salsa, chicken broth and half teaspoon of salt. Stir a couple of times and let the mixture come to a boil.
Cover the pan, and stick it in the oven for 25 minutes. You’re supposed to throw in the peas for the last five minutes, but I’ve never actually done that because we never have frozen peas in the house.
Oh, yeah, and “fluff the rice,” which I had to learn the hard way is quite different from fluffing one’s pillow. Who knew?
Ruth and Tim love to cook, eat, and enjoy wine.
Ruth is a vegetarian.
Tim is a carnivore.
We try to eat: